


Fraternization Not Included

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Series: The Pornish Adventures of Tabruzzi [6]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Comedy, Incest, M/M, Multi, Orgy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T-Bag and Abruzzi accept Sucre's invitation to the baptism, as do Michael, Lincoln and LJ - and even C-Note shows up! The stage should be set for another round of the famous rodeos C-Note hates so much, shouldn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have not warned for underage here because LJ has turned 16 in this fic, and most places I know of that's the age of consent (at least in Europe and the States).

“Papi! You made it!”

“Of course we did; wouldn't miss your daughter's baptism!” Michael smiled. Lincoln, LJ and he followed Sucre into the pleasant-looking one-storey house. They were introduced to Maricruz, who smiled radiantly and thanked Michael heartily for breaking her fiancé-turned-husband out of prison.

“This is Valencia,” Sucre said. He was positively glowing as he picked the baby up from her cradle, all ready for the ceremony in a white dress with pink ribbons. “Isn't she gorgeous?”

Lincoln's expression softened. “Can I hold her?”

Michael stared at his brother. Sucre, albeit a little hesitant, handed the baby over. LJ looked like he was about to laugh.

“You're a father, too, aren't you?” Maricruz said. She squeezed Sucre's hand.

“I used to be,” Lincoln grinned. “Now I'm just trying to keep them both out of trouble.” He looked at the pink bundle in his arms with the closest thing to a sappy face Michael had ever seen.

“Both?” Sucre said, confused. “I thought...”

“Lincoln's gotten it into his head that he's suddenly become the older brother again,” Michael explained, smiling indulgently at his brother as if saying, “I let him pretend he is.”

“Sure,” Sucre said, grinning back at his former cellie. “Uh, we gotta go, papi, or we'll be late for church.”

They left, Maricruz carrying the baby and Sucre carrying a lot of baby stuff. Just as they were about to get into their cars – one for the Sucres and one for the Scofield/Burrows men – another car pulled up in front of the small house. C-Note got out of it.

“C-Note!” Sucre said, looking happier by the minute. “Maricruz, this is C-Note! He -”

Maricruz handed the baby to Sucre and stepped forwards. “I know, Fernando, you told me about them a thousand times.” She was smiling broadly as she greeted C-Note and his family; his wife and daughter had just exited the car as well.

After another round of introductions, they got back in the cars, heading for the church. Sucre drove first, leading the way.

As they sat in the pews, Lincoln kept straightening his tie, as if it didn't fit. Michael knew his brother hated wearing a tie, and so was extra pleased that he did it for Sucre's sake. LJ was looking a little bored, but did his best to pay attention.

“Uncle Mike,” LJ whispered, leaning across Lincoln who sat between them. “Where's T-Bag and Abruzzi?”

“I don't think they're coming,” Michael whispered back.

“At least not here,” Lincoln said under his breath. Michael let out a soft snort of laughter before restraining himself.

“They responded on the message board,” LJ insisted. “Shouldn't they be here by now?”

Michael shrugged. “Maybe they decided it wasn't worth it. Nymphomaniacs, you know.”

The three men were grinning widely throughout the service. Luckily, Sucre and Maricruz thought it was because they were so happy for Valencia. Michael didn't feel the need to disillusion them.

***

“See, I told ya we was too late, John,” T-Bag complained, slumping back in his seat. “Now we're missin' the service and everythin'.”

John snorted contemptuously. “You just wanted to molest the kid before the visit officially began.”

T-Bag grinned, completely remorseless. “Ya know me so well.”

“Well, since we have no idea what church they're in and no clue when they're coming back,” Abruzzi said, looking sideways at the other man, “you might as well fulfil that promise right now.”

“Now what promise would that be, John Boi?” T-Bag asked, doing his best to look innocent – a stunt which hadn't worked since he was about twelve.

“The one involving cocksucking on your part, fucking on mine, and dirty stories in between,” Abruzzi clarified with a slight smile.

T-Bag laughed. “Ah, that one. An' I was sure ya'd forgotten all about it.”

Abruzzi rolled his eyes. “Highly unlikely. Now get started with the cocksucking.”

T-Bag wet his lips. “Well, I did make a promise, now, didn't I?” He shifted in the passenger seat, thankful that both doors were open (it was unbearably hot), and unbuckled Abruzzi's belt. “Tilt that seat back for me, would ya.”

Abruzzi turned the small wheel on the side of his seat until he was almost lying flat. T-Bag moved all impeding fabric out of the way before dipping his head towards the mobster's groin.

“Keep an eye out for approachin' vehicles,” T-Bag grinned. They were, after all, parked outside what was allegedly Sucre's house. He let his teeth scrape gently over the skin as he slid his mouth down around Abruzzi's cock.

Abruzzi groaned with pleasure. He let one hand fist in T-Bag's hair, caressing the scalp, and closed his eyes. “Fuck, Teddy.”

“Mm.”

It was all T-Bag could manage with a mouth full of Italian cock, and he preferred it that way. He bobbed his head slowly, licking along the musky skin. Abruzzi always tasted of sex.

Abruzzi was panting harshly through open lips. He never stopped wondering at how the murderer's mouth could feel that hot. That wet and deliciously sinful. He buried his other hand as well in T-Bag's hair, clutching and pulling.

He never tried guiding the other man's mouth, controlling his pace or tightness of the lips. He just needed to hold onto something, or he'd fall off the face of the earth. T-Bag's mouth was slowly dragging him away from reality.

“Theodore!” he moaned, shudders running through him when he felt the other's throat muscle work around him. He loved it when T-Bag deep-throated him; there was something spectacular about the fact that the Alabamian would rather have Abruzzi's cock down his throat than breathe properly.

“Mmm...”

T-Bag was moaning. He clutched at Abruzzi's hips, tilting his head and working faster. He never got enough of controlling Abruzzi like this.

“Swallow?” Abruzzi gasped, hips bucking up into the wet heat that was drawing him in.

T-Bag released the hard cock from his mouth for a moment to chuckle. “I don't think comin' in there with spunk on my face, is gonna do us a lotta favours, John.”

Abruzzi growled, pushing T-Bag's head back down. “Fine. Swallow.”

T-Bag didn't protest; he merely clamped his lips shut around the mobster's erection before sucking hard. Abruzzi cried out hoarsely and came. He could feel the other's tongue lap against him as T-Bag licked up every last drop.

“Ya know, I really do like it when ya do that, John,” he finally said, pulling off.

Abruzzi was gasping for breath. “What?”

“Come on my face,” T-Bag said with a teasing grin. He leaned in to briefly kiss Abruzzi before starting to do his trousers back up. “'Cause ya always lick it off after.”

Abruzzi's eyes darkened. “That's happened twice, Teddy. You'd better not get used to it.”

T-Bag shrugged, sitting back in his own seat again. “Four times, but just as well. I just trimmed my goatee.”

They both grinned.

“But John, if ya plan to never come on my face again... does that mean I don't get to be on my knees beggin' for it? 'Cause that usually ends in you licking -” T-Bag began, but Abruzzi slapped him upside the head.

“Don't get descriptive, Teddy. Save it for tonight. Story time, remember?”

T-Bag's tongue twisted between his teeth, the Alabamian barely holding back a lot of things he wanted to tell Abruzzi – such as various things they could do on the hood of the car – but at that moment, a car pulled up in front of the house. The two men stepped out of their own.

“Abruzzi? T-Bag? Wow. You guys, uh... you showed,” Sucre said, looking a little apprehensive.

“Congratulations on the baptism,” Abruzzi said, reaching out to shake hands with Sucre. T-Bag contented himself with a nod and a grin. The nod was returned, if a little stiffly.

“Uh, thanks. Um. Maricruz, this is John Abruzzi and...” Sucre actually had to think before remembering T-Bag's real name. “Theodore Bagwell. They were in the escape, too.”

Maricruz paled. “I... watched the news,” she said, smiling politely at them. She held out a hand, and Abruzzi shook it. T-Bag gallantly kissed it, which caused Sucre's eyes to pop out of his head and Abruzzi to grin.

“He has a way with women,” Abruzzi smirkingly confided in a shocked Sucre as they made their way into the house.

“An' John boi here sure knows how to punish me for it,” T-Bag said innocently.

An awkward two minutes later, C-Note and his family came in, closely followed by Michael, Lincoln and LJ. Sucre breathed a sigh of relief as Maricruz took DeeDee and Kaycee to fawn over the baby, leaving only the Magnificent Seven in the living room.

“T-Bag, Abruzzi,” Lincoln said neutrally. “Didn't see you in church.”

LJ and Michael began giggling hysterically, and C-Note frowned. Sucre was looking distinctly nervous.

“Teddy here spends fifteen minutes in front of every mirror he sees,” Abruzzi lied smoothly. Lied, because those fifteen minutes weren't spent combing hair or trimming the goatee. They were spend kissing and teasing Abruzzi until the taller man growled and ground against T-Bag until they both came and had to change trousers.

“John boi, I thought they taught ya the time in Sicily, too,” T-Bag retorted. “It was more like half an hour.”

“Who wants a beer?” Sucre almost shouted. C-Note eagerly yelled back that he would like one, and the two family men disappeared into the kitchen.

The silence lasted for about three seconds, and then the remaining five men burst into laughter, going round for handshakes and back slaps and, in the LJ versus T-Bag case, a hug-thing that turned into an ass-grab.

“Teddy, behave,” Abruzzi grinned. “No fraternizing, remember.”

“What, I was just checkin' to see how much he'd grown,” T-Bag defended, causing LJ to laugh even louder.

Gifts were handed over, and the beers were handed out. The two wives seemed to be getting on very well, to the point that Sucre and C-Note looked a little worried. DeeDee was playing with the Sucre family's newly acquired dog, and the adults – including LJ, for which he was very happy – were sitting down with coffee and various pastries.

“So how have you been, Fernando?” Michael asked, smiling warmly at the other man. “Maricruz must have been happy to have you back?”

Sucre looked over at his wife – deep in conversation with Kaycee over diapers and whatnot – and beamed back at Michael. “Best time of my life, papi. I'm working construction in town. It's not gonna make me rich but we've got everything we need. Maricruz works from home; she's on leave since the baby arrived.”

They talked for a while about everyone's lives. About Michael and Lincoln's scuba shop and dozens of extra jobs (ranging from fixing people's TVs to photography; one of LJ's hobbies) in a remote village in Panama, and C-Note's new home some place in northern Europe (“You flew in??”).

When everyone looked expectantly at the M'n'M couple, as LJ had so enthusiastically dubbed them way back, Abruzzi began laughing and T-bag grinned happily.

“We ain't doin' a thang,” T-Bag said. “We're... what do ya call it, John?”

“Earning dirty money through my old mob connections,” Abruzzi stated.

“I was gonna say financially independent,” T-Bag said with a shrug. “Sticks an' stones, I guess.”

LJ and Michael stared. “So... you've been living around for three months doing absolutely nothing?” Michael asked.

Lincoln cleared his throat. “According to the message board...”

Sucre and C-Note grimaced. Everyone else tried not to laugh.

“Pretty, I have no marketable skills whatsoever,” T-Bag said, winking saucily. “None that I can trade without John boi givin' me a smack, anyway.”

“Then what do you do all day?” LJ asked with an evil glint in his eyes. He knew the answer, of course. He was just having fun.

“Well, we did get us one o' them video cameras,” T-Bag began, but Sucre stood up quickly.

“Who wants more coffee!” he said loudly.

***

They sat in Sucre's living room for a few hours more, talking and reminiscing and complimenting the house and the baby. Then C-Note said that he and his family had checked into a hotel, and that they should get back. Arrangements were made for everyone to have lunch together the next day, and C-Note drove off. DeeDee was falling asleep in the back seat.

“Where are you guys staying?” Sucre asked.

“We brought the tent,” Michael said. He almost managed to keep a straight face.

“Papi!” Sucre said, sounding hurt.

“Don't worry, Fernando, no _fraternizing_ ,” Michael said, smiling wickedly at Sucre. “I promise. We just haven't slept in this thing for ages; thought we'd get back in the habit.”

“Well, great minds certainly think alike, Pretty,” T-Bag said, tongue flicking around his lips. “John boi and I brought our own tent. No fraternizin' included, of course.”

Sucre glared angrily at him, but Valencia chose that particular moment to began crying. He bade the others good night before hurrying over to help his wife.


	2. Chapter 2

“LJ! Lie still, would you? I'm trying to sleep.”

“But dad, T-Bag and Abruzzi are just over there, and -”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No. Now go to sleep.”

“Aw, come on! We haven't seen them for months! I'll bet you anything they're having fun right now while we're sleeping in here!”

“Some of us, at least, are trying to.”

“Sorry, uncle Mike, didn't mean to wake you.”

“Lincoln, gag your son, would you?”

“Michael! Do you really need to remind me right now?”

“Lincoln's got a bondage thing! Lincoln's got a bondage thing! Lincoln's got a -”

“Shut it, kid.”

“Lincoln, stop holding him down. He's sixteen; he'll just get hard over it.”

“Michael!”

“Hard right now, dad.”

“You two are gonna be the death of me!”

“Oh, come on, Lincoln. Since when did you become the responsible one?”

“Well, someone's got to come up with a safeword...”

“Daaad...”

“No! Dammit, go to bed! Both of you! We _promised_ Sucre we wouldn't!”

“Not even -”

“No! I'll get you a new riding crop when we get home if you'll just shut up and go to bed!”

“... Fair enough. 'Night, dad!”

***

“Ya know what I like best, John?”

“Mm. But tell me.”

“'S when ya _rim_ me. Remember when I introduced ya to that? When I had ya bent over an' comin' hard, just 'cause of my tongue?”

“Yes.”

“I never would-a thought you'd love doin' it to me, though. Didn't take you for the type.”

“You come so much harder when I do.”

“Ain't a wonder, John Boi; not with you eatin' my ass out.”

“Dirty mouth, Teddy...”

“Aw, come on, now! That ain't fair! Ya can't jus' get me all riled up an' then not follow through!”

“You were the one who insisted we come here. You even insisted we keep our promise not to fuck at all while we were here. No blowjobs, no rimming, no _nothing_. Sure you want to stay another two days?”

“Unless we can bring Pretty and the kid with us when we leave, I ain't keen to cut the visit short. But Señorita Sucre don't need to know...”

“No. Now tell me what you want me to do to you when we get back in the car.”

“Fine. Have it your way. First of all, I want to suck your cock. Then we can drive a few hundred yards down the road, and ya can fuck me on the hood of our car. Right there beside the road, like.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But not until ya come; I want ya to come later. When I rim ya.”

“Fuck!”

“Mm. Sure we hafta keep that promise?”

“Goddamn you, Theodore! Go to sleep! Right now!”

“Whatever ya say, boss. Jus' keep in mind, I'm countin' the hours.”

“Shut the fuck up and sleep!”

***

Sucre sighed with relief, looking out of the window at the two tents rigged out there. They stood with a fair amount of space between them in the field just opposite the house.

_Thank God the assriders are taking it easy._

He imagined he might have Michael to thank for the silence in the Scofield/Burrows tent. He didn't even start imagining who might be responsible for what in the other tent.

“She's asleep,” Maricruz said, coming to stand next to him at the window. “Come to bed, Fernando.”

“Yeah,” Sucre said, turning away from the tents in the moonlit field.

As they undressed and crawled into their bed, Marcruz asked, “Why are they sleeping in tents? I'm sure we could have found room for some of them inside.”

Sucre blushed, turning out the bedside lamp. “Uh... memories. They like camping.”

If he heard a single moan, he would go out there and kill them himself.


	3. Chapter 3

“Ooh, ain't this a fancy place,” T-Bag commented as he sat down next to Abruzzi.

“I took Maricruz here the day after Valencia was born,” Sucre said. “Looks more expensive than it is.”

The Puerto Rican smiled. The other guys hadn't made a sound all night (none that he and Maricruz could hear in the house, anyway) and they'd looked very normal when they woke up.

T-Bag hadn't even grabbed Michael's ass all morning. Sucre was grateful and, he had to admit, impressed.

The waiter arrived with six beers and a Pepsi for LJ (“Dad!” “I said no, LJ.”). Shortly after, they were supplied with seven burgers and heaps of fries.

“How they do last night?” C-Note asked, glaring suspiciously at Abruzzi and T-Bag. “They wake you up as usual?”

“Not a sound, actually,” Sucre said, kind of grinning. “They must be ill.”

“Yeah, those STDs can be nasty stuff,” C-Note muttered.

LJ grinned. “Well, at least we won't get any we don't already have. And they all come from T-Bag, and he's not keeled over and died yet, so it's probably not lethal.”

T-Bag slapped the boy upside the head. “Watch your mouth, boi.”

C-Note looked a little green around the gills.

“If ya must know, I had myself tested,” T-Bag informed the room at large, fingers hovering over his fries as if deciding which one to eat next. “An' I know if I ain't got 'em, John Boi ain't got 'em. So unless ya boys been doin' reruns of the show with a new cast...”

Lincoln frowned. “Why would you have yourself tested when you've been monogamous for months? Unless you noticed something.”

Sucre cleared his throat loudly and waved the waiter over for a beer refill.

“I used ta lead somethin' of a promiscuous lifestyle, Sink,” T-Bag said, smirking at Michael. “But my pipes are clean. Now ya can all feel safe.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “As if we didn't all get tested as soon as we split up.”

Abruzzi's eyebrows rose. C-Note chugged down his entire beer.

“Are you implyin' a lack of trust here, Pretty?” T-Bag affected a hurt expression.

Even Sucre chuckled.

“Not so much a lack of trust as a certainty that you'd been going through cell mates like I go through socks,” Michael parried.

Abruzzi's eyes darkened. T-Bag, with a quick glance at his companion, took a hasty sip of beer. “Past times, Pretty. Could-a been a different man altogether.”

“Too bad,” LJ piped up. “We were thinking, maybe you guys would like some company on the way back south?”

“ _LJ_ was thinking,” Lincoln hastily explained.

“Guys!” Sucre snapped, looking nervously around. “Don't you have any shame left?”

Lincoln leaned in to grin dangerously at Sucre. “I'm fucking my sixteen year-old son and my brother two at a time, Sucre. What do you think?” he said softly, making Sucre blush hotly and look away.

“You're sick.”

Not surprisingly, it was C-Note who spoke up. He didn't look as nauseous as he used to, though – just a little annoyed. “All of you assholes are sick fucks.”

“Hey!” Abruzzi said, sounding angry but with laughter in his eyes. “I'm just involved in a mature, homosexual, consensual relationship. Nothing sick about that. Unless you're a homophobe. Now that wouldn't be very open-minded, would it?”

T-Bag and Lincoln roared with laughter. LJ and Michael were biting their knuckles, trying hard not to laugh (the boy really took after his uncle sometimes). Sucre, of course, looked torn between laughter and exasperation.

“Mature, that's right,” C-Note said, almost grinning himself. “How do you two fossils even get it on? Don't you need Viagra or something?”

The table suddenly went dead silent. T-Bag and Abruzzi were glaring venomously at the former officer, who suddenly looked a little apprehensive, despite his attitude.

“How about we step outside, boi, an' I show ya how old I am?” T-Bag said, tongue flicking around his lips like in the olden prison days. Michael could have sworn he saw a silver flash of that razor blade.

“Whoa, hill billy, easy,” C-Note said, looking uncertain. “I was just joking, okay? Christ, did I hit a sore spot?”

The silence was tense. It lasted all of ten seconds before LJ cleverly winked and said, “Well, you know what they say about men being like wine – just gets better with age.”

The tension cracked, and Abruzzi and T-Bag were suddenly sporting matching smirks of evil plans for the imminent future. Even Michael was blushing; Lincoln looked like he might have to kill himself, and the two family men desperately drowned whatever was left in glasses around the table.

“You're not doing shit until you leave here!” Sucre reminded them, looking embarrassed in every way imaginable.

“Sure thing, Sucre,” Lincoln assured him. “At least _one of us_ remembers that.”

Grumbling, Sucre bit into his burger, chewing irritably. C-Note looked like he would rather be anywhere else but there, and followed Sucre's example on making quick work of his burger.

LJ did not stop grinning until Michael silently promised him a spanking later that night, and the grin was replaced by a guilty look of anticipation.

***

“Abruzzi's certainly lightened up.”

“Yeah. T-Bag must have totally fucked his mind up. He's not even embarrassed about being gay anymore.”

“You guys know we could totally use that to our advantage, right?”

“You're already in for a spanking, LJ, so don't make it harder on yourself.”

“Fine. Can I make it harder for you?”

“You're insatiable! Your father told you, no sex until we're back home, so learn some restraint, LJ.”

“Like you wouldn't have fucked me if I asked.”

“Hey! That's enough! New rule: no dirty words until we're out of here, either! Now shut up and let me drive.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“I said no dirty words!”

“It's not a dirty word; I can't help it if you've got negative connotations for it!”

“LJ. Seriously. You are _this close_ to being left in a ditch by the road.”

“Fine, fine. I'll just sit here and imagine Abruzzi fucking me, then.”

“As long as you do it silently; your father needs to concentrate while driving.”

“And no dirty words!”

“...”

“I can see what you're thinking, LJ. Don't.”

“This is gonna be the longest two days of my life.”

“The last two, if you don't shut up now!”


	4. Chapter 4

The Scofield/Burrows family spent the rest of the day hiking: Lincoln insisted it would be good for them. Michael was about to keel over and asthma himself to death before they'd walked a mile (and he wasn't even asthmatic; just really out of shape). LJ loudly complained that they could have been having sex all day, “but no, you drag me around this half-assed forest!”

When they finally got back to Sucre's place, they found T-Bag and Abuzzi sitting outside their tent, lazing in the sun. A pack of cards was lying on the ground, untouched.

“Well, if it ain't the Boyscouts of America,” T-Bag drawled, giving them the old once-over. “Y'all been fightin' boars or somethin'?”

LJ grumpily sat down. “No, dad just insisted we climb through every piece of shrubbery he could find. I'll bet my ass I've got thorns in about every crease!”

Abruzzi chuckled. “Fucking dumb way to spend a day. We've been touring the town.”

Michael arched an eloquent eyebrow. “What, they have a porn theatre here?”

“Shut your mouth, Pretty,” T-Bag said pleasantly. “We been to that a-quarium, see. An' whatta ya know, they even got a Starbucks here.”

LJ's eyes lit up. “Starbucks! Dad, can we go? Please? I could just kill for a tall White Chocolate Mocha right now!”

Lincoln shrugged. “They're probably closed for the day. We'll go tomorrow. Did you say they had an aquarium?”

“Real fish an' everythin',” T-Bag affirmed. “An' lots o' dark corners.” He grinned up at Abruzzi, who sheepishly grinned back.

“I knew it. You couldn't even last two days without sex,” Lincoln said, sounding smug. “ _We've_ been keeping our promise to Sucre.”

T-Bag looked completely unruffled. “For your information, Sink, we ain't been doin' nothin'. Señorita Sucre didn't say we wasn't allowed to kiss an' hold hands an' all that nice stuff, now did he?”

Michael laughed. “Sure, you just wanted to hold hands and look at the pretty fish.” All the former cons winced at the pun, some with grins wider than others.

“We did, in fact,” Abruzzi said with a mocking snarl. “Teddy here can't do without a little love and affection.” Everyone snorted disbelievingly, even T-Bag himself. “We just -”

“Made out like horny teenagers,” T-Bag concluded. “Ain't nothin' wrong with that.”

LJ pouted attractively. “See? They're having more fun than us! And I _am_ a horny teenager; I should be the one being molested!”

Lincoln ruffled his son's hair affectionately. “You'll still be a horny teenager the day after tomorrow, which is when we're leaving.”

“And as soon as we stop the car, you can molest us all you want,” Michael smiled. Although it could be tiring sometimes to have a young, attractive and nearly insatiable lover, it was also kind of adorable how LJ always wanted more.

“Say, you been givin' any more thought to, uh, the transportation?” T-Bag said, licking his lips. “Y'all still want company?”

“Yes!” LJ said eagerly.

Lincoln frowned. “You sure you had yourself tested?” he asked, which made Abruzzi angrily flip him the bird.

“I thought you were practically married by now,” Michael commented. “I seem to remember one or both of you going ballistic should anyone even try something.”

Abruzzi shifted where he sat, clearly uncomfortable. “I don't care who Teddy fucks, as long as he doesn't pick anything up along the way.”

T-Bag scowled at the other man, but didn't say anything. Michael decided to leave well enough alone and turned to his brother.

“What do you think, Lincoln? Should we try travelling by pack?”

Lincoln shrugged, grinning widely. “I'm already wearing myself out trying to keep up with you two. A little relief wouldn't be amiss. I'll leave it up to LJ.”

LJ glowed with wanton anticipation, and Michael laughed at him. “Looks like we'll be going together, then.”

***

“Teddy, come on, don't be such a girl.”

“I ain't bein' a girl; just tryin' to sleep, 's all.”

“Theodore. You know I didn't mean that.”

“Then how come ya said it?”

“I... I don't like Fish and his family interfering in our business. Not like that; you can fuck them all you want. I really don't care. But fuck it, Teddy, I'm not about to explain to the Fish _why_ I don't care!”

“Now who's the girl!”

“Wipe that grin off your face, fucking faggot. It's none of their business, that's all.”

“Aaw, John Boi! I'm touched. You're ashamed to admit that you're so confident in our _mature, homosexual relationship_ you ain't worried if I fuck around. 'Cause ya know who'll be fuckin' me in the end, ain't that right?”

“I know who'll be smashing your head right now if you don't shut up!”

“Don't ya worry, John Boi. I love ya, too.”

“...”

“Funny, ain't it; took me two days of celibacy before I said that.”

“Goddamn mood wrecker.”

“An' I'm loosin' my touch, too. We better start havin' sex again before I say somethin' even dumber.”


	5. Chapter 5

Michael and LJ were both high. True, it was only a caffeine high, so they weren't doing anything dangerous or illegal, but they were still acting like kids on weed. Lincoln, not much of a coffee guy, had only had one cup and was feeling rather normal.

His brother and son were giggling hysterically over the fact that someone had placed a sombrero on the Starbucks sign so that the mermaid or whatever she was in the middle, looked Mexican. They were each nursing their fourth Styrofoam cup, standing in the street and laughing hysterically.

“Señorita Starbucks!” LJ wheezed, and they fell into fits of laughter again.

Lincoln swore. People were beginning to stare. Embarrassed, he dragged the two younger men off to their car, efficiently cutting their tour of the city short. “Come on. We promised we'd help Sucre paint the fence.”

“No, we didn't,” Michael gasped, still giggling.

“Maybe not, but we're still going to paint it,” Lincoln stated, starting the car. “Or you two can go for a long walk in the forest. Anything to make you stop laughing.”

***

“Papi, why are your friends painting the fence? Didn't we plan to do that some time next month?”

“What the... I'm gonna go ask them.”

“Well, it's very nice of them. But how did they know we wanted it painted?”

“Michael's a college man; he probably analysed the paint or something and found out it was time to freshen it up.”

“Analyse paint? You're funny sometimes, Fernando. Would you like to help me with the ironing?”

“Anything that keeps me away from the M'n'Ms...”

“What's that, honey?”

“Nothing, mami. Coming!”

***

“How was your night?”

“Oh, fine, DeeDee and I had ice cream and watched cartoons. And you?”

“Sucre and me had a few beers at the local bar, watched sports, catching up. You know.”

“That's nice. Sucre's such a nice guy. But... did the others go home already?”

“Uh... No, they're still there.”

“Then why didn't they go with you to the bar?”

“They're, um, they're not... We don't have a lot in common, actually.”

“But you lived with them for months!”

“Exactly.”

***

“This is the sixth time I've lost in a row, Teddy. Let me have a look at that deck.”

“Sure, look all ya want, mister Mafia. I ain't tampered with it.”

“... Show me your hand.”

“So I got a royal flush. What's the biggie? Luck, ya know. Karma.”

“If karma was the case here, you wouldn't have any cards at all. Is there something you're not telling me about?”

“... No.”

“Theodore.”

“Fine, fine. I been cheatin'. I forgot; you weren't there when I won us that Kitchen Game.”

“The Kitchen Game? When did you win in the Kitchen Game?”

“Actually, I was helpin' Eightball win. We needed the cash to keep Pretty's cell off the market when he an' Señorita Sucre were both up in Solitary.”

“... This would have been while I was in the hospital, I take it.”

“Shit. Uh, John, I didn't mean to be bringin' that up. I didn't.”

“It's alright, Teddy. Past life. And I guess you owed me one after... everything.”

“Ya mean when ya had me beat up before I got 'round to _molestin'_ the Pretty?”

“Among other things.”

“Huh. You're right, John Boi. Past life. I don't care much 'bout it now.”

“About our turbulent history or about molesting Fish?”

“Both.”

“Too bad we've already invited them to travel back with us, then.”

“Well, uh, just 'cause I don't care too much about it, don't mean we can't take advantage.”

“Too true. I fuck you while the happy family watches?”

“Ya always have such excellent ideas, John.”

***

Sucre didn't approach the Scofield/Burrows family until they'd finished painting the fence, looking tired and giggly.

“Any particular reason you guys decided you had to paint my fence?” Sucre asked, looking at their handiwork. It looked good.

“They were killing me,” Lincoln said exasperatedly. “This is the last time I'm letting them have _four coffees_ each. They've been giggling all afternoon!”

“Well, uh, Maricruz says thanks,” Sucre said, looking with confusion at Michael and LJ. “There's dinner inside if you want it.”

“Great!” LJ said, his stomach rumbling loudly at the mention of food. “I'm starving!”

“Just gonna get T-Bag and Abruzzi, too,” Sucre muttered, and headed into the field to tell them that there was food available. Thankfully, they were playing cards when he got there, and accepted the invitation with no sleazy comments or bouts of coarse laughters.

Dinner, however, was an interesting affair.

T-Bag was quick to compliment Maricruz on the cooking, telling her good food was the second fastest way to a man's heart.

“What's the fastest?” Maricruz asked with a slight smile.

“Through the chest with a big knife.”

LJ almost choked on his food trying not to laugh. Michael pat him on the back, trying to calm him down.

Maricruz looked pale until T-Bag gave her his most charming grin and assured her that he was only joking.

Lincoln, however, mirrored the way Sucre clenched the steak knife by his plate for the duration of the meal. Michael had to kick his shin under the table to stop him from scowling between LJ and T-Bag.

Then Maricruz asked who would like some fruit salad for dessert, and Sucre went beet red to the soundtrack of Michael almost snorting water in his efforts not to laugh.

As they said goodnight and headed back to their tents, all five of the campers were trying and failing to keep straight faces. For as T-Bag pointed out, “Kinda difficult to do when we're all queer, ain't it?”


	6. Chapter 6

“Ya know this is our last night in celibacy, right?”

“Mm. I'm very aware of that. Tell me what you're going to do when we're out of here tomorrow.”

“John Boi, I already told ya. Twice.”

“Then tell me what you're going to _let me_ do when we get back to... wherever we're staying now.”

“Oh, now, that's another matter altogether, ain't it. Let's see, now. I'm-a let ya fuck me six ways from Sunday.”

“Where? How?”

“Bent over the first thang I can find to bend over, until I'm beggin' ya for mercy.”

“Mm.”

“An' then I'm-a let ya rim me, if ya want.”

“I always do, Theodore. What else?”

“Well, now. I still got some left. I'm-a let ya rough me up a bit. Bite me, slap me around, y'know. Mark me. Just like ya want me; all bruised an' battered, like.”

“Fuck.”

“That, too. I'm gonna have carpet burns from the sleepin' bag on my knees. My thighs gonna be all chafed from your trousers – ya know the ones ya never take off, only push 'em down. An' my hips gonna be black and blue all over with fingermarks. Your fingermarks. An' right up near my shoulder... There'll be bites and teeth marks, won't there?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Think they'll wanna watch, John Boi? Think Sink and Fish are gonna be jealous when they see how ya _own me_?”

“No. Which is good, because they can't have any.”

“Aw, John. Not even a little piece?”

“As I said, I don't care who you fuck. But Theodore?”

“Hmm?”

“No one else fucks _you_. That's mine and mine alone.”

***

“I'm serious, LJ. T-Bag is dangerous! Just because Abruzzi's got him bitchified, it doesn't erase the things he's done. What he's capable off. You're not leaving my sight when he's around.”

“But dad, you never want to have fun with them! And uncle Mike's always there! What's the big deal?”

“Your uncle's a wimp; he couldn't stop an angry hamster.”

“Linc!”

“Sorry, Mike. But I am not letting LJ out of my sight while T-Bag is around!”

“Well, then you'll just have to watch while I have sex with them, then.”

“You're really that hell-bent on having sex with them?”

“No, I'm just hell-bent on having sex, period. I guess if you guys can't supply it...”

“He's being rude again, isn't he, Linc?”

“Extremely rude. You know it'll be the paddle when we get home, LJ.”

“Fuck yes!”

“... I need to find some other disciplinary method.”

***

“Let's make love, mami.”

“Fernando! You haven't kissed me like this since we started dating! What's got into you?”

“I'm celebrating.”

***

The morning after had arrived. T-Bag and Abruzzi were shifting restlessly from foot to foot, as was LJ, standing safely between Michael and Lincoln. C-Note and his family had just packed up and left, saying their polite goodbyes to everyone.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Michael said, smiling at Sucre and Maricruz. “You'll invite us for the confirmation, right?”

Sucre grinned. “Sooner, papi. Now that I know you can behave.”

Maricruz looked confused, but didn't have time to think as the Burrows/Scofield men shook hands with her and then her husband, waving goodbye. They got into the car, waved one last time, and drove off. T-Bag and Abruzzi followed suit, thanking the Sucres for inviting them and wishing them the best for the future. They drove off in their own car.

T-Bag had wanted to drive together. Michael had insisted they didn't do that to Sucre, so they had agreed to meet up again a couple hundred yards down the road. The M'n'M pair caught up with the family's car, and followed it. Lincoln apparently knew where to go.


	7. Chapter 7

“We there yet?”

Lincoln gave an amused snort. “LJ, we just left. We can't just pull up by the side of the rode and have a gay orgy in the bushes! There are laws in Mexico too, you know.”

Michael grinned. “Besides, you've already waited for three ways. What's one more hour?”

“An hour?” LJ complained, leaning in between the front seats. “Dad! Uncle Mike! Are you really going to make me wait for a whole hour?”

“Maybe even two,” Michael smirked. “You've got a whole lot of punishment coming, remember?”

The sulky silence emanated from the back seat for about three minutes before it changed character. It turned smug. Michael could sense it, but out of precaution he didn't turn around to see what was going on.

“LJ!” Lincoln just about wrenched the wheel off its socket and the car off the road. He straightened the vehicle, glaring angrily in the rear-view mirror. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just relieving a little stress,” LJ moaned, “until I can get what I want.”

Michael, unable to resist, turned back. He was met by the sight of LJ, head thrown back and pouting, red mouth open, with his hand down his jeans. LJ's forearm was flexing, moving slightly. He let out a breathy moan.

“LJ,” Michael said. His throat went dry. “Isn't this wasting your opportunity for later?”

LJ's arm flexed again, and he whimpered. “Fuck no! You said an hour. In an hour I'll be hard again. Fuck, uncle Mike, no one's touched me for days! I haven't even touched _myself_ for days! I need it!”

“Tell me,” Lincoln commanded, and Michael turned back in his seat, looking at his brother with a small smile. “Tell me what you'd like now.”

“For you to fuck me on the hood of our car,” LJ breathily admitted. “To have Michael rim my ass. To watch T-Bag and Abruzzi fucking each other while we're doing the same. _Fuck_ , I'm so hard! Dad!”

“Open your jeans, LJ,” Lincoln insisted, and LJ complied, lifting his hips to push them, down enough to reveal his hips. His erection was very visible and very eager.

“Stroke yourself for me.”

LJ whimpered and grasped himself, stroking hard.

“Slower,” Lincoln commanded, his gaze alternating between the rear-view mirror and the road. “Stroke yourself, slowly. Now play with your nipples.”

Michael watched hungrily as LJ did as he was told, sliding one hand up under his shirt to pinch at one nipple. They stiffened under the thin shirt, giving Michael a good view of how aroused the kid was. LJ's breath sped up and he muttered something.

“What, LJ?” Lincoln said, signalling before he took a right turn.

“Feels good,” LJ repeated, loud enough to discern the words but barely. “Feels so good! Dad... fuck...”

“Is he jerking off, Michael? Is he stroking himself?” Lincoln demanded, voice dark.

“Slowly,” Michael confirmed, looking intently at LJ. “He's toying with himself. He's all hard and squirming for you, Lincoln.”

“Both,” LJ gasped, squeezing himself tighter. “For both of you!”

“I'm going to let you come,” Lincoln growled. “You can jack off until you come, LJ, but I don't want a single drop on the upholstery.”

“Fuck, dad,” LJ moaned. “Can't we stop? Just for -”

“Not until we reach the motel,” Lincoln interrupted. “Half an hour, LJ. You'd better hurry if you want to be ready again when we get there.”

LJ, teeth gritting together, looked imploringly at Michael. “Please?”

Michael unclipped his seatbelt. “Just because you asked nicely.” He crawled around the seat, slid his torso towards LJ, his legs uncomfortably shifting until he could kneel on one knee in the narrow space between the seats. His other leg was almost in his seat.

Lincoln cleared his throat. “Your ass gets in the way of the stick, Mike.”

Michael laughed, but lowered his body until he wasn't interrupting Lincoln's gears. He smirked at LJ, then dipped his head and sucked the boy's erection into his mouth, purring around it.

LJ lasted all of three seconds before he came, loudly whimpering Michael's name. Michael swallowed it all, not spilling a drop on the upholstery.

“That was quick,” Michael commented, trying to shift back into his seat. “I thought even sixteen year-olds lasted longer than that. Especially with all the training we've put you through.”

“Three days, uncle Mike,” LJ said by way of explanation. His grin was too big for the back seat; it should have gone through the windows. “Try me again in an hour.”

***

“John, please!”

“Get real, Teddy. I can't fuck you while we're driving!”

“We can pull over.”

“No. We're following Sink's car until we get where we're going. You can wait.”

“... What if I was in your lap, like? Ya could still drive...”

“Shit, Theodore! I'll wreck the car!”

“Ya sure, John Boi? Sure we can't even give it a try? I can sit real close, an' ya'd still see the road over my shoulder...”

“... Fine. But you'll have to be naked.”

“Actually, I could just take off my pants.”

“Yes, but you'd look stupid. Get naked, get lubed, then get in my lap.”

“Mm-mm! I sure like it when ya go all disciplined on my ass, John.”

“Come on, your jeans, too. Where's the lube?”

“Glove compartment, right here. Wouldn't leave it some place inconvenient.”

“Get yourself ready.”

“I'm a-doin', John Boi. Just keep your eyes on the road. ... Ready.”

“Open my trousers. Then move your scrawny ass over here.”

“There we go; oops, don't wanna rip somethin'... All set. Just gotta grab this...”

“Are you talking about my cock or the seat, Teddy?”

“Both, as you'll probably notice. Huh, John, ain't seen ya this composed durin' sex before.”

“Shit!”

“My bad; wasn't intendin' to block the view.”

“Teddy! Fuck, faster!”

“Uh-huh. Christ, John, 's awkward.”

“Oh holy fuck! Either you're nervous, or you're tighter than usual in this position!”

“Ya know, John Boi – hnngh! I think I am. Either that or your cock grew overnight.”

“Fucking move, Teddy. Right now!”

“Mm-hmm...”

“... Stop biting my neck. And move, or I'm gonna stop the car.”

“Nah, keep drivin'. ... _John!_ ”

“There you go. Faster.”

“Fuck, fuck!”

“Shit, Teddy, faster!”

“John!”

***

Michael got out of the car and gave himself a good stretch, feeling his bones pop back into place. It'd been difficult enough to watch LJ in the back seat; blowing him had been hard on Michael's muscles (and on his will power, but no need to mention that).

They were parked in front of a small, run-down motel. There were only one other car in the parking lot, except for T-Bag and Abruzzi's. LJ was already headed over to their car, and Michael followed him. Lincoln had gone to check in.

Michael could hear laughter through the open window, and grinned. The M'n'M pair had been close behind them for the entire ride, but he'd noticed the car wavering slightly. Faced with the sight of T-Bag buttoning his shirt and Abruzzi discreetly shifting so he could zip his trousers, with shit-eating yet embarrassed grins on their faces, he had a pretty good idea of what had them so distracted.

“Who drove?” Michael enquired politely as the pair stepped out of the car. LJ was looking a little confused.

“I did,” Abruzzi said, getting their bag from the back seat. “Teddy's completely useless whenever he comes near a cock.”

“Liar,” T-Bag smirked. “If my memory serves me right, it ain't me who hit that chicken...”

LJ laughed. “Yeah, I thought I saw feathers on your bumper!”

“It shouldn't have been running around in the middle of the road,” Abruzzi grumbled.

“It wasn't; it was standing in the ditch _by_ the road. With all the other chickens.”

“Shut up, kid! Teddy, go get us a room,” the mobster growled. He didn't seem too happy considering he'd just gotten laid.

With LJ and T-Bag heading off to see the rooms, Michael gave Abruzzi a knowing grin and fell in step beside him. “That's very... irresponsible.”

“What, Fish?”

“Having sex while driving,” Michael laughed. “How did you manage it; was he straddling you in the driver's seat?”

Abruzzi sent him a glare of extreme annoyance. “What's it to you if he was?”

Michael pat the mobster's shoulder in a placating way. “Nothing. I just find it rather amusing how you two are practically a pair of newly-weds. I think it's adorable.”

Abruzzi stopped dead. “ _Newly-weds?_ Fish, call me adorable one more time and I'll crack your skull on the pavement!”

Michael laughed. “Yeah. You still take yourself way too seriously. I think he's good for you; you've lightened up considerably since Fox River. And I know you're good for him; he probably hasn't raped or killed someone since, what, the escape?”

Abruzzi's eyes darkened, and his fist tightened. He looked ready to tear someone a new one. “Keep your nose out of other people's business, Fish.”

“I'm not interfering,” Michael insisted. “I just think you're a cute couple, that's all.”

Luckily, Lincoln and LJ chose that moment to pop their heads out and shout at Michael to “Come check out the room!” His head remained blessedly uncracked.


	8. Chapter 8

“Dad, they've got a jacuzzi out back!”

“Well, we're not getting in it while the receptionist can see, LJ. I had a hard time convincing her Michael was my boyfriend and you our adopted son; if she sees you _frolicking_ in that tub with anyone, she'll call the cops. ... What are you laughing at, Mike?”

“ _Frolicking_? What, did you swallow a thesaurus?”

“Don't get smart with me, asshole. I'll kick your ass any day, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, but then you'll fuck my ass any day, too. Overall, I win.”

“Except for the days when he'll fuck _my_ ass.”

“Shut up, both of you. Jesus, I'm dealing with kids here! LJ, get on the bed. At least one of us remembered to bring the handcuffs...”

“Yes, Linc, you're just the epitome of mature responsibility. Give me that; I don't want you losing the keys when LJ starts screaming. You always lose the keys!”

“No, I don't! I always put them next to me on the bed; it's not my fault you guys can't lie still with my cock up your asses.”

“Careface! I'm on the bed, dad. Handcuff me already.”

“Careface?”

“Slang; I don't know what it means. What have we told you about talking over our heads, LJ? Michael. Let's fuck the language out of him!”

“Linc, you are such a caveman sometimes.”

“Fine, we'll just tickle him until he gives it up.”

“No! Hey, no, I was fine with the first plan!”

“... Who's got the lube?”

“You didn't pack it?”

“What, we don't have lube? Then you'd better have some lotion or something; if you try fucking stuff out of me without lube -”

“No one's going to fuck anyone without lube, LJ. Didn't you bring the red bag, Lincoln?”

“No, I fucking didn't; I was too busy keeping LJ from packing the gag and blindfold!”

“...”

“Fuck.”

“Hey... hey, guys! Abruzzi and T-Bag's got lube, guaranteed! Go ask them if we can borrow some! I'd go, only I'm kinda handcuffed to the bed, you know?”

“That, and you're naked. Michael, you stay here and make sure he doesn't move. I'll be back in two seconds.”

***

“I see our little auto mobile stunt ain't done much to keep ya happy, John.”

“It did; it just didn't last for very long. Fish thinks we're a cute couple, by the way.”

“... Really.”

“Mm. We might have to hurt him.”

“I'll say. Now, mister Mafia, where d'ya want me? Bed, chair, floor...”

“On the bed, face down. Floor's too hard.”

“Gettin' old, John Boi?”

“Watch it, Teddy, or I might forget where I put the lube.”

“No worries; I got it right here.”

“On the bed. Bend over.”

“Fuck, John, ya know just how to get me all hot an' eager, don't ya? ... Cold!”

“New brand. Tastes like mint. Remind me to have a taste later.”

“Ooh... John! Fuck, that's – what, now?”

“Who the hell... What?!”

“It's Sink! We were just wondering – open the goddamn door, you pervs!”

“Don't move, Teddy. And don't tense up, or it'll hurt like a bitch when I get back here.”

“Fuck!”

“... What do you want, Sink?”

“... I see you're naked.”

“I see you're not.”

“Uh... yeah. We were actually wondering if you've got any... any lube we might – fuck, I didn't need to see that!”

“'S just a lil' skin, Sink. Did I hear ya say ya ain't got lube?”

“Michael forgot to pack it. I don't suppose you, uh, got some spare?”

“Sure we do. Here ya go; with my greetin's for Pretty and junior.”

“Uh... thanks, I guess.”

“Knock yourselves out. Now get the fuck back to your own room.”

***

Lincoln, working hard to stop images of Abruzzi fucking T-Bag noisily from entering his brain, quickly went back to their room and locked the door behind him.

“What?” LJ said, momentarily distracted by his father's entering the room. Michael had been doing a good job of keeping his focus in one place, namely, on Michael's tongue. It was flicking over LJ's body one inch at a time, making the boy squirm and moan.

“Uh... They were kinda busy. But we got lube.”

Michael smirked. “Let me guess. T-Bag was already bent over and begging for it.”

“It's so disturbing seeing them like that!” Lincoln complained, throwing Michael the lube before starting to strip. His brother and son were already naked. “They're... it's like they're normal people, but they're not!”

Michael and LJ looked at each other and grinned. Michael cleared his throat. “Well, I know some parts of them are _very_ normal...”

Lincoln made a face, and LJ giggled. “Disgusting!”

Naked, Lincoln joined the others on the bed, him and Michael kneeling side by side over LJ, who was spread-eagled on the bed, handcuffed to the headboard. LJ made a catlike sound of contentment and arched into the touch as the older men ran their hands over him, lightly touching everything they encountered.

“I still say we fuck something out of him,” Lincoln said, “even though I'm not very particular about what.”

LJ almost blushed, smiling. “Good plan!”

Michael leaned in to kiss the boy's earlobe lightly, then moved further down and kissed his sternum in the same fashion. “Mm. Can I go first?”

“Yeah,” Lincoln agreed, dipping his head to bite gently at LJ's nipple. LJ squirmed pleasantly. “I'll watch.”

He got off the bed again, and sat down in the only chair in the room. Lincoln adjusted it so he could comfortably watch the entire performance.

Michael kissed LJ briefly, then spread his legs and knelt between them. “Keep them apart,” he suggested. Then he squeezed the cool, blue gel into his hand. “Huh... water based.”

LJ's abdomen twitched when one of Michael's slick fingers made its way inside him. “Cold!”

“I'll heat it up for you,” Michael smirked, and shoved two fingers quickly inside LJ, thrusting them in and out a few times before adding a third. LJ was getting spectacularly good at taking it with almost no preparation, but Michael loved the little sighs and whimpers he made when someone was prepping him, stroking inside him, nipping the insides of his thighs...

“Uh... uncle Mike,” LJ moaned. “More!”

“No,” Michael simply said, then pushed his fingers in deep. He added another, pushing four fingers as far into LJ as possible.

“Yes!” LJ let fly a breathless cry when Michael's fingers found his prostate. “God, fuck, yes!”

“Want me to fuck you now, LJ?” Michael purred. He removed his fingers and spread some more lube on his cock. “Want me to slide inside you, tight and hot, and fuck you while your father watches?”

“Uh-huh,” LJ managed, throwing his head back into the pillow. “Yes!”

Michael lined himself up with LJ's opening, rocking his hips a little, not quite breaching LJ's body. “You love being handcuffed, don't you? Helpless? Ours for the taking.”

“Yes,” LJ repeated, legs hooking around Michael's slim hips to pull him closer. Michael allowed himself to barely penetrate the tight ring of muscle, then he held back, the head of his cock barely inside the boy. “Fuck yes!”

“Yes,” Michael agreed, finally sliding forwards until their hips were pressed together. He kissed LJ again, purring against his lips. “Mm, you feel so good, LJ.”

“Fuck me?” LJ begged, and Lincoln's groan drowned out Michael's ditto.

“You're so pretty when you beg,” Michael moaned, and Lincoln could only stroke himself slowly, watching his brother's elegant body entwine and move with his son's pale, tender skin. They merged, rocking back and forth, LJ's wrists held mercilessly in place by the leather-clad handcuffs but his legs more than made up for it by pulling greedily on Michael's body.

“Harder,” LJ whimpered. “Make me come! Please!”

Michael silenced him with a kiss; two sets of full, red lips as they pressed against each other. Michael thrust faster, leaning closer so that LJ's erection was trapped between them, rubbed by the movement of smooth skin.

“Come for me, LJ,” Michael tempted, rocking firmly into the boy's body. “You want to, don't you?”

“Yes!”

With a scream, LJ came, legs clenching tight around Michael's waist as the older man's body moved on top of his. He shivered, feeling slickness spread between their stomachs, and moaned Michael's name again. “Michael!”

Michael's mouth fell open, his eyes slid closed. He was so close; the feeling of LJ tightening around him had him halfway to the edge and if... just...

“You too, Michael. Come.”

Michael cried out, shuddering, and came at the sound of his brother's rough command. He thrust shallowly into LJ a few more times, sinking slowly down over the lithe body, their slender limbs around each other.

“Fuck, you look pretty when you come,” Michael panted, kissing LJ with a smile. “I'm not the pretty family member anymore; looks like you are.”

“Fuck that,” Lincoln growled, getting up from the chair. “You both are. Now stop arguing over who's got the tightest ass; I'm still hard, in case you haven't noticed.”

Michael laughed tiredly. “It's impossible to ignore; you're like a bull when you're horny – just as big and just as single-minded. Come on, then. Have your way with us.”

LJ giggled. “Kinky bastard. You've got two hot bottoms to fuck, and it's not enough?”

Lincoln climbed onto the bed, Michael and LJ both on their backs under him. He grinned at them both, leaning down to bite first LJ's, then Michael's throat. “Yeah. And I'm thinking, why choose? I want a piece of each.”

***

Closing and locking the door after sending Sink off with the lube, Abruzzi turned to T-Bag with a huge grin. “You just couldn't stay on the bed, could you?”

“You was naked an' Sink was a-knockin' on our door, John. You'll excuse me for not stayin' bent over on the bed, my ass on display,” T-Bag said, tongue flicking restlessly over his lips. “Now, what was that ya said 'bout me tightenin' up?”

Abruzzi chuckled. “Get back on the bed, Teddy. I'm not in the mood for playing around.”

T-Bag sauntered back to the bed, getting to his hands and knees on it. “Ya want me on my knees, John Boi? Or on my back?”

“On your stomach,” Abruzzi growled, joining the murderer on the bed. “And spread 'em.”

T-Bag grinned, complying. Abruzzi laid down over him and he arched into the mobster's hard body, pressing his ass against Abruzzi's erection. “Ooh, feisty!”

Abruzzi grabbed T-Bag's hips, pulling them up a little. “Stay.” Then he took himself in hand, positioning himself to thrust right into T-Bag's body. The smaller man always took him willingly and eagerly.

“That little car fuck did nothing but make me more horny, you know that, Teddy?” Abruzzi hissed, pushing into T-Bag. He revelled in the other man's sounds of relief. “Christ, it feels like we haven't fucked for a _week_.”

“Yes!” T-Bag moaned, pushing ever so slightly back as Abruzzi pushed forwards.

“So now I'm gonna fuck you,” Abruzzi panted, “until you can't fucking walk straight for a week. And then I'm gonna rim you until you're begging for more. How's that sound?”

“John!”

The Alabamian wasn't capable of answering; with John's cock inside him, he was lucky if he could scream the other man's name without it turning into a groan or a whimper. “Fuuuck...”

Abruzzi started moving with hard thrusts, going as deep as he could, holding T-Bag in place and fucking him into the tacky comforter. “Fuck... Teddy!”

Hands fisted in the sheets, masculine groans filled the air. The room was permeated by the scent of sex; sweat, musk, that very unique smell that was just them together. Abruzzi bit down on T-Bag's neck, his teeth holding the smaller man in place as he fucked him.

T-Bag gave a hoarse shout, his body racked by shivers as he strained back to take every inch of everything Abruzzi had to offer. He couldn't breathe, move, speak; all he could do, was take it, accepting every move of their hips against each other.

“Fuck,” Abruzzi panted, releasing the bruised skin of T-Bag's shoulder. “Fuck!”

T-Bag moaned, tensing and convulsing around Abruzzi, the comforter caught between his teeth as he struggled not to come already, not to give in so this would be over...

But then Abruzzi started hissing into his ear, and T-Bag came with a drawn-out groan before he even heard what the other man was saying.

“T-Bag,” Abruzzi hissed, still fucking the smaller man with a vengeance, feeling the rhythmic contractions around his cock pull him closer to the edge, too. “T-Bag. You're my bitch, aren't you? You're not Teddy anymore when we're... when we're fucking like this. _Dio!_ You're T-Bag. My bitch.”

T-Bag purred in reply, arching back to meet Abruzzi's thrusts. “John, yes!”

“And you'll take it...” Abruzzi grunted, so close he was about to explode. “... because you love being... fucked like this.”

“Hard,” T-Bag panted. His fingers were clawing at the comforter next to Abruzzi's. “Like ya... to fuck me hard!”

Abruzzi shouted T-Bag's name as he came. The sound of skin on skin slowly receded as the taller man sank down, groaning, sliding slowly out of T-Bag's body.

“Huh,” T-Bag huffed, a little out of breath from being sandwiched between Abruzzi and the bed. The other man wasn't exactly tiny. “I'll say.”

“Grmgh,” Abruzzi muttered into the skin of T-Bag's shoulder.

“Haven't come this hard since I don't know when,” T-Bag commented.

Abruzzi slowly raised his head, grinning, and placed a few nips along T-Bag's neck. “Since the last time I fucked you, probably. Pervert.”

“No, really,” T-Bag insisted. He let his body relax in the non-existent space between Abruzzi and the mattress. “I ain't had sex this good for ages. Must'a been the celibacy.”

“You mean the withdrawal,” Abruzzi grinned. “We're not trying that again, ever. If I'm a sex addict then I have no intentions of detoxing.”

T-Bag chuckled, and the mobster rolled off him, lying down on his back. They both sighed contentedly.

“Teddy?”

“Hmm?”

“The next time any of our dear neighbours come in... want to let them find you with my tongue up your ass?”


	9. Chapter 9

“Mm, yes,” Michael purred, arms loosely draped around Lincoln's shoulders. Lincoln was kissing his neck wetly, slowly. The older man moved down with excruciating slowness, his lips leaving a lazy trail of kisses that moved over Michael's throat, down to his collar bone, approaching his nipple...

“I love you, Mike,” Lincoln muttered, then let his tongue flick a few times over Michael's sensitized nipples. “Love you.”

Michael sighed happily and gently dragged his nails over Lincoln's back. He loved how his brother was always so sturdy; there was always something solid to hold on to. Shoulders, hips, arms...

_Cock, tongue, ass..._

“Come sit with me in the chair.”

Michael raised his head, confused. “Huh?”

But Lincoln just got off the younger man, stood, and retreated to the chair he'd occupied earlier. “Come here.”

Michael, smiling slightly, complied. “Okay.”

Lincoln sat down, pulling Michael with him. The chair was a low-backed armchair, and when the older brother had Michael straddle him in it, Michael's legs ended up over the chair's arms – spread as wide as he could manage. He had to hold on to Lincoln's broad shoulders to avoid falling backwards.

But Lincoln's arms found their way around his waist, and Michael could let go. Lincoln pulled him in for a kiss. “Lube me up.”

Michael, still holding the lube, complied, then threw the tube back onto the bed. Using one hand on the armrest to steady himself, he somehow managed to raise himself enough for Lincoln to position himself underneath him, then sank slowly back down.

“Oh,” Michael gasped, feeling the hardness of Lincoln's large cock slowly fill him. “Lincoln!”

LJ whimpered from the bed. He was straining against the handcuffs, desperate by the sight of his uncle writhing elegantly in his brother's lap.

“I love you, Mike,” Lincoln repeated, his hands on Michael's hips easing them into a slow, deep rhythm. “Love you, I love you, I -”

“Fuck!” Michael moaned, his head tilted back. Lincoln pulled him in for another kiss, unable to resist those kissable lips. “I love you, too, Lincoln, fuck! Fuck me!”

“You just love me fucking you like this,” Lincoln grinned, then grunted when Michael shifted his hips, driving the other man deeper yet. “Michael!”

“Linc,” Michael panted, his hands clawing into Lincoln's shoulders. “Fuck, Lincoln! I love you!”

“Tell me again,” Lincoln suggested, driving into Michael's prostate. The younger man cried out. “Tell me. Please.”

“I love you,” Michael whimpered. The other man never got enough of hearing Michael say that. Nor LJ; Lincoln never came harder than when Michael and LJ whispered in his ear that they loved him, kissed him with affection, called his name...

But Lincoln was determined not to come. He let all Michael's weight rest on the younger man's grip on his shoulder and one of his own arms around Michael's slender waist, then grabbed his brother's hardness and stroke. “Wanna make you come,” he growled, stroking steadily. “I'm gonna make you come, and you're gonna tell me. Say it.”

“I love you,” Michael whimpered. He clenched around Lincoln and the older man knew he was close. “So much!”

With a gasp, Michael came, shooting onto Lincoln's chest. He moaned, legs shaking with the strain, and leaned in to kiss Lincoln desperately. “Love you,” he muttered. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Lincoln grinned into Michael's skin, licking over the younger man's nipple. “I know. Now get out of my lap; I've got one more client to deal with.”

Michael tiredly rolled his eyes, but slowly untangled himself from Lincoln, and sprawled in the chair as soon as his brother vacated it. He sighed contentedly, watching Lincoln looming over LJ on the bed.

“Enjoy the show, LJ?” Lincoln purred, dipping his head to kiss the boy gently.

“Fuck me,” LJ begged.

Michael chuckled. “If I didn't know better, I'd diagnose you with nymphomania, LJ.”

The youngest Burrows whimpered needily under his father's touch, non-verbally begging for relief and bucking into every inch of skin he encountered. “Please, dad! Fuck me!”

“Exactly what I had in mind,” Lincoln confirmed. He reached for something on the night stand – his tie, brought for the christening. He slowly tied it over LJ's eyes, blindfolding the latter with deep blue silk.

LJ was panting. Blindfolded and handcuffed to the bed, he could do nothing but wait. And then Lincoln knelt between his legs, hooking LJ's knees over his elbows, and leaned forwards until his cock was nudging LJ's ass. “Ready?”

“Michael already fucked me; I'm never gonna get more ready than this,” LJ laughed, straining and arching to get closer to his father. “Now get a fucking move on!”

Lincoln growled; the sound that meant he was about to turn into a true caveman and just fuck his way through anything that moved. “Impertinent whelp.”

Michael laughed. When he'd first called LJ that, his nephew had giggled. Then Lincoln had decided the pet name was simply perfect, and called his son an impertinent whelp whenever he saw the opportunity arise.

Among other things that rose magnificently at the sight of LJ blindfolded and tied down on the bed. Lincoln grunted against LJ's throat as he pushed inside him. He loved having a lithe, slender body beneath his own, bucking and begging for it; LJ and Michael both fit so well underneath his own body.

“Fuck, you're such a good boy, LJ,” he panted, rocking into LJ's tightness. “And you're so... tight. Fuck, Michael, he's so incredibly tight!”

Michael moaned. “Don't... even say it!” He was in no shape to get hard again, and Lincoln's words fired his mind up way ahead of his sated body.

“Dad,” LJ gasped, and then his father silenced him with a deep kiss. They broke apart, both panting and gasping, and LJ's head thumped back into the mattress. “Fuck!”

“You feel so good, LJ,” Lincoln grunted, reaching between them to stroke LJ. His hand was still slick from Michael's orgasm mere minutes previously. “So pretty, feel so good...”

“I love you,” LJ gasped, clenching around Lincoln's hardness. “Oh!”

“This isn't a marathon, LJ,” Lincoln insisted, stroking the boy faster. “Come for me. We'll... have more... more fun later. Come. Let go.”

LJ cried out. “Fuck! Dad, please, don't stop!”

“No sex for three days,” Lincoln reminded him in a huff. “Release it. Come while I'm fucking you, LJ.”

Two more strokes of Lincoln's wrist, that expert flick right at the end, and LJ moaned his climax, spilling over Lincoln's impossibly big hand. The older man kept stroking him, whispering in his ear about _love_ and _tight_ and _so pretty_ , and LJ's back arched until his shoulders were barely touching the mattress.

“I love you, LJ.”

LJ whimpered with exhaustion, straining his neck to kiss Lincoln's chin. “Dad!”

“Want me to come in you, LJ? Or do you want to watch? I could come all over your thighs, marking you so T-Bag and Abruzzi wouldn't even go near...” Lincoln smirked, still hard as a rock inside LJ.

But it was Michael's turn to be the sensible one. “Just because you've got the stamina of a herd of elephants, doesn't mean we'll be able to walk tomorrow,” he laughed, then quickly took the key and unlocked LJ. LJ shed the blindfold, grinning. The two younger men finally rolled Lincoln to his back, and closed in from either side.

“We love you so much, Lincoln,” Michael purred, licking the sturdy neck beneath his lips. He entwined his and LJ's fingers, then brought their joined hands down to fold around Lincoln's erection. He guided LJ's smaller hand to follow his lead, stroking with that efficient yet delicate touch that Lincoln loved.

“Yeah,” LJ piped up, briefly kissing Lincoln's lips. “Love you, dad. And uncle Mike, too.”

Lincoln groaned. The two younger men stroke him, murmuring dirty words and declarations of love until Lincoln gave a hoarse shout and came, pumping liquid pleasure over their joined hands.

LJ eagerly went to his knees above his father to lick it all off. Michael soon joined him.

“Fuck,” Lincoln breathed. “What a family of pervs.”

***

“Teddy.”

“Mm?”

“I think the receptionist is watching us.”

“Mm.”

“I'm being serious; she's watching and I don't think she's enjoying the show.”

“But I ain't doin' a thang!”

“Somehow I doubt you trying to eat through my neck qualifies as nothing.”

“So what; what she gonna do? This ain't the deep South, John Boi; we ain't gonna get lynched here.”

“No, but she could kick us out. At the very least, she could ask us to leave the jacuzzi.”

“Aaw, darn it! I'm a-havin' so much fun with these bubbles...”

“... That's not the bubbles you're grabbing right now, you know.”

“No, these would be your -”

“Theodore, give it a rest! We're in Mexico; don't you think they're more conservative? Aren't most of these people Catholic?”

“So are you, John.”

“Yeah, but I've got a lot of good excuses for violating church law and... and shit. Excuses which that receptionist isn't gonna like, from the way she's glaring at us.”

“Hey, we're payin' customers. We can use the jacuzzi.”

“Yeah, but we can't have sex in it. Let's just go back to our room.”

“Hey, I got a better idea... Why don't we go back to our neighbours' room?”

“... Don't see why not. Let's just make a stop at our room and get the bottle; would be impolite to visit without a bottle of booze.”

“An' lube.”

“Right.”


	10. Chapter 10

“LJ, turn it off! Please!”

“Nuh-uh, uncle Mike! Come on, dance with me!”

“I second Mike; they're talking chipmunks! You can't dance to this!”

“I can, too; especially to the remix! Ooh-eeh-ooh-ah-ah, ching-ching, wallah-wallah-bing-bang! Come on, dad; shake it loose!”

“LJ. You'll be seventeen soon. You're _shaking it loose_ to Alvin and the Chipmunks?”

“The _remix_ , dad; the remix! Just listen; it's kind of funky, isn't it? _Come on, shake, come on, roll_!”

“... Okay, I'll admit that is rather appealing.”

“You're talking about his ass swaying, Mike, not this kiddie music!”

A series of hard thumps on their door alerted Lincoln to the fact that they were not alone in the motel. Turning the music down a fraction, he went to open the door, finding T-Bag and Abruzzi standing there, grinning at him.

“Fuck,” he grumbled. “You're going to molest my son again, aren't you?”

The mobster grinned remorselessly. “Maybe. Or your brother; depends on what Teddy feels like today.” He paused frowning slightly into the air in front of him. “What's this shit you're listening to?”

Lincoln groaned. “Alvin and the Chipmunks. Don't ask.”

He hesitantly stepped aside, letting the two older men into the room. He noticed T-Bag was carrying a largish, brown paper bag.

“Fish, what the hell are you doing?” Abruzzi asked, staring at Michael. And LJ. Who were both standing on the bed wearing nothing but their shorts and shirts and, in LJ's case, a tie loosely draped around his neck. Lincoln's blindfold tie.

Well, standing on the bed was a bit of an understatement. They were jumping around on it, grinning and inches away from smashing into the ceiling fan whenever they threw an arm out to keep their balance.

And then they both sang, or shrieked, at the top of their voices: “Ooh-eeh-ooh-ah-ah, ching-ching, wallah-wallah-bing-bang! Ooh-eeh-ooh-ah-ah, ching-ching, wallah-wallah-bing-bang!”

T-Bag arched an eloquent eyebrow.

“Get your asses down, we've got company,” Lincoln said, for the first time in his life a little embarrassed about his brother and son. But not too embarrassed to grin widely as they refused, standing back to back and shaking their asses in what could only be described as bad dancing.

Thankfully, the song ended, and LJ stopped abruptly, making Michael crash into him. “What?”

“I said, we've got company,” Lincoln said, torn between scowling harmlessly at Abruzzi and smiling at Michael, whose elegant fingers were playing lightly with the tie around LJ's neck.

“Well, they can sit their asses down and wait,” LJ declared, grinning widely at the M'n'M couple. “Turn the volume up, dad!”

Lincoln sighed and turned the volume up. LJ had brought his iPod and a speaker set, and there was an unhealthy amount of decibels in that small apparatus. Bass, too.

T-Bag was about to speak, but was overridden by the sudden burst of music. Lincoln didn't understand shit of what they were singing, but the rhythm was kind of funky...

“It's socialist working class music!” LJ shouted happily, dancing up to Michael on the bed. He got his hands under the older man's open shirt, and Michael smirked. “I don't know what the hell they're singing, but it rocks!”

Abruzzi frowned. “Isn't this Swedish or something?”

“Says in my iTunes they're Norwegian,” LJ shrugged, and bounced happily around on the bed. He and Michael both looked like teenagers on their first school dance, Lincoln decided.

_Not that LJ is much older than that. ... Meh; he's got his life cut out for him already. Fucked-up genes._

T-Bag threw Lincoln the brown bag. “Well, if we're waitin', we might 's well get comfortable.”

Lincoln grinned when he extracted the bottle of tequila. The very large bottle of tequila. “Getting nostalgic?”

“Ain't nothin' gets John's pants off faster than worm juice,” T-Bag said, winking lasciviously at Lincoln. The younger man was tempted to smile, but refrained when he found the _other_ bottle in that bag.

“What, you didn't give us enough an hour ago?” he said, turning the bottle over in his hand. “Peppermint? Huh.”

“Ya mean ya haven't tasted it yet?” T-Bag chuckled, nudging Abruzzi ´discreetly`. “Too slow, Sink. Ya'll fall behind.”

“Actually, we've been too busy actually _fucking_ to have a lube-tasting session,” Lincoln grumbled, throwing the lube back to T-Bag. “But I'll take some of that tequila, if you're offering.”

Abruzzi shrugged, and Lincoln took a large gulp. If he didn't get drunk, and soon, the sound of _Turning Japanese_ would turn him mad before he got around to fucking anything.

“Turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese, I really think so!” LJ hollared, and Michael, though not familiar with the lyrics, did his best to follow along.

“No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women, no fun, no sin, no you, no wonder it's dark!” LJ sang, jumping to his knees on the large bed. “Come on, dad; give me a lap dance!” He giggled, then – while still on his knees on the bed – leaned further and further back, shimmying his shoulders in time with the music until he was almost stretched out flat.

“I'll show you lap dancing,” Michael said with a wink in Abruzzi's general direction. He jumped off the bed, pushed Abruzzi down in the chair he and Lincoln had used earlier, and ordered Lincoln, “Find me some better music!”

Lincoln pressed random buttons until he heard the dulcet tones of Joan Jett's _I Love Rock and Roll_ , and remained where he was, tequila bottle in hand.

Michael climbed into Abruzzi's lap, doing interesting things which seemed to require a complete disconnection between hips, spine, shoulders and neck. He writhed slowly in the mobster's lap, giving LJ another wink for good measure.

“Gimme that,” T-Bag said, suddenly at Lincoln's side to take the tequila bottle. The Alabamian drank deeply from it, glaring death and torture at Michael.

Lincoln groaned. “Why did you come here if you're going to be jealous over a simple lap dance?” he grumbled, grabbing the bottle back from T-Bag.

“'Cause it's enough fun to be worth it,” T-Bag quietly replied, grinning darkly at Lincoln. “See, I'll suck your cock any day, no problem. An' I'll fuck Junior's fine tail just as easily. But John ain't fuckin' anyone, an' no kissin'. Now, I'm just makin' sure Pretty follows the simple rules. I ain't _that_ jealous. Even though Pretty earned his name, and earned it good.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes. “Drink your worm juice and shut up.”

“Dad,” LJ said, and Lincoln turned to the bed to find his son completely naked on the rumpled sheets. Laughing rather evilly for one that young. “Can I ask you a favour?”

Lincoln's mouth went dry. No matter how many times he saw LJ like that, it still struck him that every inch of golden, perfect, smooth skin was for him and Michael, and all for them. A perfect contrast to Michael's pale, almost translucent skin where the tattoo had been bleached into a blur of barely discernible lines. And an even better contrast to Lincoln's tattooed arms, calloused hands and coarse, sun-burnt skin and closely-cropped hair.

“What?” he managed. T-Bag was watching the boy, too, and was licking his lips with slowly wakening desire in his eyes.

“You know the Sucre replay...”

Lincoln grinned, T-Bag gave a snort of laughter.

“I wanna try it. Want to fuck me while I suck T-Bag off?” LJ said innocently, his eyes big pools of green alight with mischief.

“Get your ass on the bed, T-Bag,” Lincoln promptly ordered. His only item of clothing – a pair of shorts – was shed in a heartbeat, the lube already in his hand.

T-Bag glanced at Abruzzi, who was quite busy having Michael pressing his ass against John's stirring erection, then shrugged. “'S long as ya keep your hands to yourself, boi. No funny business.”

LJ grinned. “I'm not touching, just sucking.”

T-Bag got naked, then laid down on the bed, scooting up towards the pillows. “Y'all are sure creative, boys.”

“Sucre thought so, too,” Lincoln said, grinning. LJ eagerly climbed over him, leaning down to place little bites over T-Bag's hip bones. “Now keep still, LJ.”

LJ, grinning up at T-Bag, held perfectly still as Lincoln slowly poured lube into his hand, then began rubbing it slowly over LJ's entrance. The boy shuddered. T-Bag smirked; that stuff was really cold.

And tasty, but no need for the happy family to be reminded. They'd probably find out sooner or later.

“Dad!” LJ moaned, and T-Bag saw Sink's brows contract into a frown of concentration. “Fuck, go faster!”

Lincoln groaned. “You're such a slut, you know that?”

“Hell yes. Fuck me, daddy!” LJ purred, looking up at T-Bag with a wink. He giggled, then gasped as Lincoln's cock pressed hard all the way inside him.

“I never thought I'd see the day when the Burrows boys got kinkier than John Boi and myself,” T-Bag commented, shifting a little to get more comfortable as LJ slowly lowered his head to his cock. “We ain't related.”

“And I'll punch you if you ever call me daddy again,” Abruzzi growled, suddenly standing right next to the bed. Michael was laughing, standing right next to him.

“You... ever called him – oh, fuck, daddy?” LJ breathed, then took T-Bag's cock back into his mouth. _Mm, Alabamian delight..._

“Once,” T-Bag managed, looking up at Abruzzi, who was looking a little disappointed. “Come down here, John Boi; this boy's got plenty for both.”

“Hey! What am I; part of the furniture?” Michael said, looking at Lincoln – who was doing his level best to hold still until everyone got settled down; not an easy feat when LJ was clenching around him – before making the decision for them all. “Linc, LJ, T-Bag. Scoot over; make room for two more.”

The three men already on the bed shifted, making room for Abruzzi to lie down on his back next to T-Bag. Michael got on the bed, too; kneeling next to LJ. He laughed.

“Sex logistics skills; I've got them,” Michael grinned, then leaned backwards to kiss Lincoln briefly before turning back to Abruzzi. “With an odd number of participants, creativity is required.”

Even Abruzzi chuckled at that. Then Lincoln decided he'd waited long enough and began thrusting slowly and deeply into LJ. “Whatever. Fuck now, talk later.”

LJ gave a snort of laughter, but pushed slowly back against Lincoln's movements. “Mike... It's ´I has them`.” Then he went back to sucking T-Bag's cock, moaning prettily whenever Lincoln angled his hips just so.

T-Bag's eyebrows sky-rocketed. “The boi ain't got your skills, Pretty. He sucks better when he's not bein' fucked.”

Michael ignored the murderer in favour of leaning down to slowly lick Abruzzi's erection. “Mm. Careface.”

“Careface?”

“Don't ask,” Michael smirked, then went to work for real.

“Fuck!” Abruzzi growled, twisting his upper body as far as it would go so he could kiss T-Bag. “Just... fuck. Kinky bastards.”

T-Bag was moaning unrestrainedly into Abruzzi's mouth. LJ increased his efforts, making the Alabamian hiss in pleasure. Abruzzi was panting, kissing the smaller man between breaths as Michael and LJ were competing non-verbally, racing the two older men towards the finish line.

“Shit,” Lincoln grunted, fingers forming red marks on LJ's slim hips. “LJ, fuck!”

LJ released T-Bag's cock. The latter gave a frustrated groan.

“I'm gonna -” LJ gasped, and then Lincoln's hand went around the boy's waist so he could stroke LJ quickly. The younger Burrows cried out, arching like a cat into Lincoln's warm body.

T-Bag's lip twitched as he felt Junior's come hit his skin, the boy whimpering and shuddering under his orgasm. “That was quick.”

“Holy fuck, dad!” LJ gasped, making Lincoln growl. “Fuck, get it over with, or I won't be able to walk tomorrow!”

T-Bag laughed. Abruzzi would have, too, only he was too busy clenching his teeth trying not to come in Michael's mouth. Lincoln, grinning, pulled LJ back until the boy was sitting in his lap, facing the murderer on his back on the bed.

“Sorry, T-Bag,” Lincoln chuckled, holding LJ's hips steady as he began thrusting with shallow, quick movements. “He was begging so prettily...”

T-Bag groaned again, but LJ threw his arms around back Lincoln's neck and kept begging and cursing for his father to please fuck him, fucking come inside him...

“Fuck, daddy, give it to me!”

Lincoln, with a roar, came spectacularly inside the clenching heat that was LJ's body. Dark bruises were beginning to form under his fingers as he growled in LJ's ear how much he loved him, and fuck, how he was so incredibly tight when he made Lincoln come...

“Fuck,” LJ breathed, as Lincoln slipped out of him and they were both panting heavily.

“Hey, what about lil' old me, hmm?” T-Bag said, eyes glinting at the Burrows men slowly kissing, still pressed together back to chest. “Don' I get some... relief?”

Abruzzi's hand on Michael's head stopped the engineer. “In a second, Teddy. Fish, get off. As good as you are at sucking it, there's one more thing I promised Teddy tonight.”

Lincoln and LJ quickly retreated to the chair, LJ in his father's lap. Not only was the chair a good spot to watch from, but they didn't want to get in the way when Abruzzi got _giving_ with T-Bag.

Michael pouted irresistibly. “What about me, then?”

“You can watch,” Abruzzi smirked, and T-Bag chuckled. “And I suggest you get your hand warmed up, because you're going to need it.”

Michael glowered, making his swollen, full lips and intense eyes all the more striking. But he shifted off the mobster, moving to the end of the bed.

T-Bag was grinning smugly up at Abruzzi. “An' what would that be, John Boi?”

Abruzzi glanced briefly at the other men in the room, then rumbled, “Turn over and lift your ass.” T-Bag turned over onto his stomach. The mobster pushed a pillow underneath T-Bag's hips, then spread the shorter man's legs, getting comfortable on the bed.

T-Bag's breath was already coming in short, expectant bursts. Michael watched in amazement as Abruzzi lowered his head to T-Bag's skin, his tongue starting just beneath his shoulder blades, then followed the Alabamian's spine downwards until it disappeared between his ass cheeks.

“Fuck!” T-Bag screamed, bucking back. Abruzzi's eyes were closed, in concentration or in embarrassment Michael didn't know. But T-Bag was panting, clutching desperately at the sheets until his knuckles turned white, his face creasing in a grimace of desire and...

Michael's eyes boggled. _They're in love! They're god damn it in love!_

“John boi!” T-Bag moaned, his back arching until it looked painful. “Christ, John!”

Abruzzi gave an answering growl. His tongue was quite busy at T-Bag's opening, his breath coming in deep pants of arousal. God, this had him so hard, so eager for the other man, so powerful over being the only one to make Teddy scream like that...

When T-Bag came, Michael could hear the sheets rip where the Alabamian was tearing at them, the only sound to escape T-Bag's throat a desperate little _whimper_ of surrender. His body twitched, and with his eyes scrunched shut, the murderer sank bonelessly into the mattress. He drew a shaky breath. “Fuck.”

Abruzzi slowly moved up T-Bag's body until he could whisper something in the shorter man's ear. T-Bag laughed weakly, grinning with a sated expression on his face.

Nothing was said for a few minutes. Lincoln and LJ were looking wide-eyed at T-Bag and Abruzzi, the latter lying heavily on top of T-Bag on the bed, kissing his neck possessively.

Finally, Lincoln cleared his throat and said, “Uh... what about Michael?”

Michael bit his lip with an embarrassed chuckle. “Don't worry about it, Linc; I took care of matters myself.” He couldn't help it; watching T-Bag and Abruzzi had just been too hot to keep his hands off himself. Especially when he was already hard from sucking Abruzzi's cock.

T-Bag's grin expanded until he looked like the Cheshire Cat. “Well, ain't that just dandy – everyone got theirs. We're a good team, boys.”

LJ cocked his head to one side, confused. “Abruzzi didn't -”

“John Boi did,” T-Bag interrupted, winking saucily at the boy. “Now get off, John; I'd like to breathe for a minute.”

Abruzzi, almost but not quite blushing, rolled to his side. T-Bag sat up, stretching contentedly. When no one said anything, he laughed. “Oh, come now, boys. Talkin' ain't never been a problem before. What's up with you?”

“Coming... from just rimming you?” LJ asked, eyes boggling out of his head.

“Since when did Abruzzi become the bitch?” Lincoln wanted to know, frowning.

“When's the bonding ceremony?” Michael questioned casually.

Abruzzi turned beet red. “Shut the fuck up, all of you!”

T-Bag was feeling more charitable. “I'm still tuggin' on John's pocket. He's a good master, 's all. An' ya ain't invited.”

Lincoln's frown deepened. “Invited to what?”

“The weddin'.”

Three... Two... One...

“Oh, my God! You're like, marching for gay rights!”

“Can you get that done here? I thought you'd have to go to Canada.”

“You fucking fruits! Ah ha ha, I never thought I'd see the day! Wait 'till Sucre hears this!”

“Teddy, didn't we agree to keep it down until things were more final?”

T-Bag grinned remorselessly. “No, _you_ didn't wanna tell anyone, period. I wanted to send the story to the press; see if we could make a headline in the _New York Times_. ´Escaped Cons Escape Conservatism`, or some shit like that.”

Michael couldn't stop himself; he started laughing. Laughing until his cheeks and ribs hurt and he almost fell off the bed. “I knew it!” he wheezed, grinning manically at the pair – both of them looking distinctly uncomfortable now. “I told you you were an adorable couple! God damn newly-weds!”

Abruzzi snarled angrily at him. “Shut the fuck up!”

Lincoln and LJ were laughing, too.

“Remember when you'd punch anyone in the face who suggested you were a couple at all?” LJ grinned, finally beginning to put his clothes back on. At least his shorts and jeans.

“And you weren't even around for the preliminary rounds,” Lincoln reminded him. The older Burrows pulled his teeshirt back on. “ _I_ distinctly remember Abruzzi punching _T-Bag_ in the face for kissing him.”

Abruzzi was buttoning up his shirt as fast as his fingers could be persuaded to. “Shut it, Sink, or I'll go down the aisle with a murder record!”

Michael put the fire out by a genuine smile and a suggestion. “Shut up, all of you. Let's just go somewhere we can get wine for toasting to the upcoming event.” _Somewhere public, where Abruzzi can't murder my tactless brother._

***

When they were finally seated, two bottles of champagne on the table (LJ even got a glass or three), Michael raised his glass in a toast, and the rest followed – if grudgingly.

“So, where are you going?” Michael asked.

“South Africa,” Abruzzi muttered, downing the rest of his glass. “They've legalized gay marriage there. And none of you fuckers will even be on the same continent.”

“Aaw! And I wanted so badly to be bridesmaid,” Lincoln said bitchily.

T-Bag scowled at him. “You're headed the right way for a smack, Sink!”

“Man, how did you guys even get to this point?” LJ said, looking with a fair amount of admiration at the two older men. “I mean, didn't you kick each others' ass once a week in prison?”

T-Bag looked almost regretful for a moment. “Uh, I might have... let my proclivities run off with me, once in a while.”

Abruzzi smirked evilly at the shorter man. “And that means you'll owe me for the rest of your life, Teddy. Or at least until we retire – I probably took a few years off after that thing with Fish...”

LJ and Lincoln both stared at Michael. “You what?” Lincoln demanded, glaring suspiciously at the M'n'M pair.

Before they could stop him, Michael grinned at the two fiancés and said, “T-Bag was about to molest me when Abruzzi had him beat up. After, of course, Abruzzi cut my toes off.”

Abruzzi had the decency to look a little uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah. Hope you didn't take that personally, Fish.”

Lincoln looked like he was about to get violent, but Michael distracted him. “Well, at least you're not fucking me like you're fucking T-Bag. I don't think I would have lasted a week.”

LJ giggled. Abruzzi gave a snort of amusement, filling his glass up again.

“Well, John Boi might have a scar across his throat 'cause o' me,” T-Bag said, glancing slyly around the table. “But I got me some fine bruises every night for the past year. An' this one...” He pointed to a dark bite mark on his neck. “... ain't the last of 'em.”

He tipped his glass in a toast to the world in general, then bit Abruzzi's earlobe sharply for all the world to see.

***

_**www.europeangoldfinch.net** _

_**Subject: Ass Riders Unite** _

_Thread by SergeantSodomy:  
Y'all may now call me Mr. Bagwell._

_Reply by SinkMan:  
What, you didn't take his last name?_

_Reply by SergeantSodomy:  
Hell no. He didn't take mine, either. But MisterMafia's made an honest man of me._

_Reply by RodeoHater:  
I could say I'm happy for you, but that would be lying. God damn ass riders! A ring on your finger doesn't make you any less of a pervert bastard!_

_Reply by MisterMafia:  
But it does make for good handjobs._

_Reply by RodeoHater:  
I am never using this board again. Ever._

_Reply by LatinoDad:  
Congrats, I guess. Maricruz says hello and congratulations. But if you ever show up here with those rings, you'd better find yourself a hotel, because I am not listening to honeymoon sex in my backyard!_

_Reply by Fish40:  
Fernando, don't be so narrow-minded. You're not in the right forum for criticising gays, you know._

_Reply by SergeantSodomy:  
And no one cares anyway. MisterMafia says hello and have a good life. Now if you'll excuse me, there's a sun bed with my name on it._

**Author's Note:**

> So, that's the end of the _Striptease_ universe. Forever. It took me some two years to finish, and it was all written for the lovely people at prisonbreakfic.net, who encouraged and requested me through the whole thing. It was also the first fanfic I wrote that actually had readers, so it's a nostalgic thing for me :P I hope you liked it!


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